


What Became of Little Hawke

by dragongoats



Series: Tales of Thedas [14]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blood Mage Hawke, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, M/M, Templar Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongoats/pseuds/dragongoats
Summary: It's rude to wear Templar armour to your own wedding.





	What Became of Little Hawke

Varric concluded his epic tale of the Champion with a flourish, then sat back smug as could be. He always loved embellishments in his storytelling, and his current audience of one was utterly riveted.

Cassandra crossed her arms and frowned. “No, that is clearly not the whole tale. I see you’ve conveniently failed to mention Hawke’s younger brother at the end. Was he not involved? He was a Templar.”

Varric smiled conspiratorially and leaned forward. He recognized when his audience didn’t want a good story to be over. “Ah, taken an interest in Little Hawke, have you?”

Cassandra scowled. “Tell me, where was he in this? We sought him out but since the Templars rebelled we’ve lost track of many Templars. We hoped he might aid us, he was there afterall.”

Varric hummed thoughtfully and sat back. “Just a little bit of romance, I didn’t think it would be of interest.” He waggled his eyebrows at Cassandra’s faint blush.

Cassandra scoffed, though she didn’t interrupt. “Go on.” She prompted.

Varric began, “Once Knight-Commander Meredith had been defeated, mage or no, the Templars got on their knees, quite literally and begged the Champion to rule...”

* * *

 

Knight-Captain Cullen kneeled in front of the Champion of Kirkwall, his head bowed. He heard the remaining Templars follow his lead, the metal of their armour clanking in the stillness of the Gallows courtyard. His ears still rang from the battle, his limbs humming with adrenaline.

“Well.” Hawke’s voice rang out, tinged with a hint of familiar humour.

Cullen met Hawke’s gaze, and the amused smirk on his face. The man held nothing sacred. He was even joking with Meredith at the end; clearly it was a mask to hide behind. Truthfully, Cullen would take anything, even Hawke's inappropriate humour over fighting for his life right now.

“What would you have of us, Champion.” Cullen said, his voice cracked and dry. His body pinged with the urge to find lyrium to drink. He was tapped out and hungry.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. “Well, for start, we could make sure everyone is safe and healed, then we should assist the city guard and the people of Kirkwall.”

Hawke sauntered over to Cullen. He had no other way of operating, even in the wake of a horrific battle. Hawke helped him up, then brushed off the dust from his armour. “ _Knight-Commander_.” Hawke said, his eyes dancing in amusement.

Cullen paled. The role was vacant and he had relieved Meredith of her duty, yet it would be hard to hear that word without recalling the horrors inflicted today. The statue that was his superior still lay smoldering nearby, the crackling of the raw red lyrium gave him a headache just looking at it. It smelled wrong too.

_How had he been so blind to what had been transpiring in this place?_

Hawke was still smiling at him, his arm wrapped around him like they were close companions. Hawke had this way about him, everyone was a bit in love with him in their own way. But this familiarity was going on a bit too long.

“Champion?” Cullen asked, too tired to fight.

“There is one pressing issue to attend to, if you would humour me...” Hawke said, looking away somewhere behind Cullen, his voice drifting off. Hawke’s body smelled like sweat and blood, the anticipated hint of lyrium strangely absent. His arm was streaked with runic figures drawn in what looked like blood. Hawke had always refused to easily be classified or understood. He wore armour rather than robes which were now horribly torn and charred, and he was just as likely to wield vicious looking daggers as a staff. He was no average apostate.

Cullen frowned, Hawke's charm and wide smiles always meant he wanted  _something_ and Cullen disliked agreeing to favours, especially from too-charming roguish mages.

“Think of it as pay back for helping with your _little Templar and mage problem_.” Hawke said before Cullen could voice his reluctance.

Cullen boggled. _Little Templar and mage problem?_ He narrowed his eyes then he tried to follow Hawke’s gaze, but when he looked, there appeared to be nothing there but the open water. “What assistance may I provide? As you see, we are in your debt.” Cullen said and nodded, realizing the bare truth in his words.

Hawke smiled widely again. “Wonderful. Well, now that the Wicked Witch of the Gallows is dead, we have another, very pressing matter.” Hawke side stepped and gestured to a Templar who was standing awkwardly nearby.

_Carver._

“Ser.” Carver saluted to Cullen and stood to attention. His armour was dirty and smeared with blood. He had an angry scrape down his cheek marring an otherwise lovely face.

Cullen’s mouth twitched.

“Here’s the issue, Knight-Commander,” Hawke said. His use of the title was purposeful, as was every careful word Hawke uttered; all part of his incorrigible charm. “You Templars are all about loyalty and obedience, and I just need to be sure that you will happily forget my brothers defection in order to protect his dear older brother.”

Cullen nodded, diverting his eyes from Carver’s curious expression. “Of course. These were... unusual circumstances to say the least. I would be happy to overlook this.”

Hawke leaned in close, his voice low and he turned Cullen’s head away from Carver’s prying eyes. Cullen had no doubt that all this served to do was draw everyone’s attention. Cullen knew he would regret asking, but found he couldn’t help the curiosity. “Something else, Champion?”

“Call me Hawke. Everyone else does.” Hawke said casually.

“Hawke, then.”

“Another thing, about my wonderful younger brother, well he’s quite a catch, wouldn’t you say? For a Templar anyhow. Young, strapping, full of energy...” He nudged Cullen’s ribs playfully and Cullen was struck then by how utterly inappropriate the conversation, not to mention the setting, was becoming.

Cullen’s neck and cheeks felt hot. “This is hardly the time for...” Cullen sputtered, searching for a way to excuse himself from this man’s overly friendly embrace.

Carver took this moment to join them. “Brother, what are you up to?” Carver asked with a scowl.

Hawke laughed. The sound echoed harshly through the courtyard and he finally dropped his arm. “Just having a pleasant talk with our _Knight-Commander_ here. As future Viscount and head of the Amell state, it’s my duty to ensure we’re all married off. And since my partner blew up the chantry then got himself killed, it’s all up to you.” Hawke said with another laugh though his face was a sharp smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You two are adorable, all, Templar-y and what not. Let me know when the wedding will be. I have plans, so many plans. Oh and no you can't wear your Templar armour. It's rude.” Hawke said with a cheeky wave, then sauntered off to bother someone else.

Cullen stared at Carver. His face was pale and his body a stiff rigid line.

Cullen cleared his throat in the tense silence. “Your brother is...” Cullen said, searching for an acceptably polite descriptor.

“Respectfully Ser, my brother is an ass.” Carver said, with all the deference of an irritated Mabari.

Cullen barked out a laugh then smiled up at Carver.

“We don’t have to get married just because my brother commands it.” Carver said with wry amusement.

Cullen’s mouth quirked. “No? Who has lived to defy him?”

They both glanced at the remains of Meredith.

“That’s fair.” Carver allowed. “So when’s the wedding, then?”

Cullen laughed again, pulling Carver into a shadowed nook. “Your brother is too clever for his own good. How did he even find out about us?”

Carver ran his hands along Cullen’s face and kissed him lightly on the lips. He tasted of lyrium. “You know my brother. It was probably _magic_.”


End file.
